


Serenade To a Jerk

by Leticheecopae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humanstuck, M/M, NSFW in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave doesn't want to listen to the disk some prick gave him at the record store, but with the music competition just around the corner, an no other beats to go off of, he may just have to give it a spin and see where it goes. </p><p>Rated Explicit for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forevveraquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forevveraquarius).



> Song used can be found here ----->http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fq8Q1bKoXU

Every single track has sounded like shit. It doesn’t matter what it is mixed with, what the bass line is, it just sounds like pure crap. Or a rip off. Dave can’t decide which one was worse. 

"Fuck," he snarls as he throws down his headphones. He just can't get the sound he wants, at all, and it may lead to small animals losing limbs soon. Every record he has sounds just like the last, worn and used. The competition is in less than a week, and he keeps coming up with base lines that sound like something Skrillex has done fifty times. Pulling himself away from the turntables, he throws his headphones on the desk, barely missing a few of his more exotic dead items. He needs to get out, find something new, or just get some fucking air.

"What's crawled up your ass and nested?" Bro asks him as he stalks into the living room. 

"Need a new record," is Dave's response. Bro just shrugs and goes back to the T.V., darts sticking to the screen over the faces of random Jersey Shore people as they do something absolutely moronic.

The ride on the bus to Dave’s prefered record store is spent completely under the influence of music. His iPod is going non stop as he flips through song after song and feels the anger in his belly welling up more and more. How could this be happening? He has never had a musical block like this before, and yet here he is, unable to even come up with a satisfactory beat.

“Hey ya Dave,” is the first thing that he hears when he comes into the shop, or he would if he didn’t have music blaring in his ears, though he does see the hand go up. He plucks off the headset as he strides towards the clerk. Tavros Nitram is all smiles as he sits behind the counter, his wheelchair making it so that his shoulders are just above the case. Tavros has been one of the best music suppliers Dave has ever had, or that the store has had. While he doesn’t necessarily rap himself, he always manages to pull something for local artists to work with. Need a beat for a rap? He can hook you up with another artist. Need something new to mix? Tavros can usually point you in the right direction.

“Sup,” Dave replies. 

“Nothing much, though it looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“An astute observation as always Nitram,” Dave replies as he leans onto the counter. “Having a hell of a time with a new mix, and just can’t seem to get any fires burning. Not even an ember.” Tavros nods at him like he understands, which he most likely does. “So I’m needing a little help here. Got anything new to give me a little boost? Something that might get these gears spinning so I can finally crank out some beats that sound more like a rhythm and less like they need a pacemaker?” The look he gets is sheepish, and he knows immediately that he is going to be screwed.

“Sorry Dave,” Tavros replies as he scratches at the base of his mohawk. “I’m afraid I, uh, showed you all the new stuff I had last week.” Shit, he’s uh-ing, which is never a good sign. It means he feels like he’s letting someone down, and unfortunately enough for Dave, that’s kinda what is happening. “I doubt I’ll be, um, getting much new material until after the, uh, battle this week.” Dave drops his head and sigh. “Sorry Dave. You know how people are around battles. No one, uh, wants to light anyone else's fires.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dave replies, voice annoyed. “I get it, thanks anyways.” Well this was a waste of a fucking bus ride. Maybe there's a record he hasn’t seen yet...yeah right. Dave gets up to leave.

“You could always check out the used,” Tavros says quickly. Dave pauses. “It’s not really any sounds you, well that you usually use, but you never know. Maybe something, uh, old will help instead of new.” Dave looks back at Tavros and feels his shoulders slump a fraction.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Guess it couldn’t hurt.” Tavros gives him a smile as Dave heads towards the curtain to one of the back rooms, a sign above saying ‘used’.

“Good luck!” Tavros calls and Dave lifts a hand in response. The back rooms are not as well lit, the used piles stacking up high most of the time. Tavros isn’t kidding either, there really hasn’t been much added to the stacks, maybe one or two boxes at most. There is only one other person back in the stacks of records that Dave sees, and all he can catch is a pair of sneakers under the shelves. He pays them no mind and heads to the old records near the back.

“I need something different,” he mumbles to himself as he starts going through the Vinyl. Maybe metal this time? Nah, too many people are mixing that. Maybe another musical soundtrack? Last time he did that the crowd had enjoyed it, but it hadn’t been enough to get the place absolutely jumping. O-Town? Not his style.

“Come on,” he grumbles. “Give me something to work with. Something fucking ludicrous,” he passes over the classical records. He never has been able to mesh classical and his style very well. His hands keep popping through the collections, searching, prying.

“Sorry to bother you,” Dave almost jumps out of his skin, just barely managing not to turn and deck the guy. Instead he turns a bit sharper than he means to. The guy he finds makes him want to raise a brow. He’s got some of the craziest ass eyes Dave has ever seen, and that is coming from a person with crazy irises in the first place. They are purple, honest to god violet, and the streak of purple in the guys bottle blonde hair just makes them pop that much more. 

Blinking, Dave finds more to look at than just strange eyes as he gives him a quick once over behind his shades. Everything about the guy screams trying too hard. Everything on him looks like it is trying to be old. Vest over long sleeves rolled to the elbow, fadded jeans, worn looking sneakers, and rounded glasses frames; his hair is tousled to look like he just rolled out of bed, but he’s probably got more shit in it than Bro; and everything about him is fucking pristine, even the little scarf around his neck that drapes over his shoulders. He’s trying to look like he’s wearing old school stuff, vintage, only none of the shit is really old. His jeans have to be top of the line, his vest is probably one of the gaudiest teals Dave has ever seen, and the deep purple underneath is soft looking. Not the soft that comes with age, but with quality. Something about the guy just feels ‘fake’.

“I heard you talking and I thought I might be able to help.” Jesus, even his accent makes it sound like he’s trying too hard. “See, this record,” he holds out a small vinyl. It’s old as shit, the name of it faded, and Dave can guess it has only a single song from the size. “It is about one of the most ludicrous things you will ever hear in your life. So if you’re lookin for somethin different, I’d give it a try.” Dave doesn’t say anything as he takes the record in the plastic sleeve.

 _Spike Jones And The City Slickers_ is printed on the center, but the rest is too faded to read. He thinks he can make out the word ‘Serenade’ but that’s about it.

“Thanks man,” Dave says and goes to hand it back. “But I don’t do classic shit.” The guy doesn’t move to take it.

“It isn’t classical,” he replies and actually crosses his arms. “It was cuttin edge back then, a real slap in the face to a lot of people.” His tone is so matter of fact it’s bordering on condescending, as if just knowing this makes him a goddamn master of music. “This is what people listened to when they wanted somethin different.” Dave just raises a brow at him, disk still held out. 

“Yeah, well I don’t really think it’s going to mesh up with my style,” he replies. The guy still doesn’t take it.

“How would you know?” And now he just sounds downright insulted, cheeks turning a little red. Dave finds it a bit fun to watch the dusting of freckles on the guys nose pop out. “I doubt you’ve even heard of Spike Jones, so how would you know he won’t ‘mesh up’ with your style.” 

“Hey,” Dave replies. “I know what kinda shit I like, and I can tell you know that--”

“That you’re a pretentious prick who isn’t willin to try something new when, apparently, everythin else you’ve tried has been doing diddly shit for you.” Dave does not sock the guy in the mouth, he will not sock this guy in the mouth. He does that, and he risks losing his favorite record store. Instead he drops the hands with the disk to his side and stares this guy down. The prick still has his arms crossed, his face set in a scowl, and the tips of his ears and tops of his cheeks burning.

“Fine.” The shocked look that crosses his face at Dave’s one nonchalant word is better than a punch. “I’ll give this shit a shot.” He moves passed the guy who is just standing there speechless. Going through the curtain he hears movement as footsteps thump behind him.

“R-really?” the guy asks. Dave doesn’t respond, just goes and puts the disk down on the counter.

“Hey Tavros, ring me up.” Tavros just responds with a sheepish smile as he takes the disk.

“W-well I am glad to see that someone is willin to give good music a try.” Dave ignores the guy and watches Tavros ring up the disk. Three bucks, not bad at all for a piece of shit he’s probably just going to use as a scratch disk. “I mean, if we still had people playing like Spike today, the music bizz would be so much be--”

“You really don’t know how to shut up do you?” The splutter he gets makes him smirk a little as he takes the disk before he turns to the guy. “Now I’m going to go home with this, give it a listen, and when I am proven right by whatever crap I just wasted my money on, I am going to scratch the shit out of this and use it as a new dartboard.” Watching the guys mouth drop is absolutely perfect, especially with the way his face goes just the right shade of red. 

“Y-you wouldn’t do that to Spike, that’s sacrilege!” 

“You never asked me if I was religious dude.” He turns and gives Tavros a slight nod. “See ya next time.”

“B-bye Dave,” Tavros replies, voice a bit soft as Dave goes to walk out, the annoying guy standing almost rooted to the spot. He’s almost to the door when he hears angry stomping again.

“Now listen here you...you fuckin prick.” Dave keeps walking, moving down the street at a languid pace as the douchebag chases him. “Just because somethin isn’t part of your fuckin norm doesn’t mean it’s not good music.” Dave turns his head just slightly so he can look at him through his shades. Damn, did his eyes get brighter? And what is with that fucking accent? He must be from some european country or something. “And what kind of musician would ever, ever, disrespect another artist so much as to use their records for fuckin dart practice?” The guys chest is practically heaving, the shiny little silver buttons on his vest moving up and down. 

Dave stops at the bus stop only to find a finger is suddenly in his face. A big, gold ring glints right up against the last knuckle. 

“You are in no way an artist if that is how you are going to treat another persons music. And further more--” Dave doesn’t know why he does it, really he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because just listening to this guy makes him want to go a little insane, maybe he already is with all the failed music attempts, but he does it. The guys finger is longer than he thinks as he feels it bump against the back of his throat, that ring of his right up against Dave’s lips. Dave watches those purple eyes go wide as he slowly pulls back, tongue flicking over the tip of the guys finger before he comes off with the slightest pop. 

“I-I...” the guy starts. Dave just smirks. Down the road he can hear the bus coming.

“I knew the only way to get a prick like you to calm down was to give you a quick suck.” 

His face goes a deep red as the bus pulls up. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, this ‘not artists’ has some fucking work to do if he’s going to wow the crowds this week with his ‘not music’.” The guy doesn’t say anything as Dave turns and climbs up on the bus. He stays on the curb as Dave sits down at a window seat and looks out at him. He’s still staring as the bus pulls away.

Dave blows a kiss, and in return gets a look at a not half bad ass stomping away from him.

\---

Bro isn‘t home when Dave get’s back, the T.V. covered in squishy foam darts. Bypassing it he goes straight for his room. He has work to do damn it, and he is going to get it done. Tossing the record onto his bed he sits back at the turn tables. He may not have gotten anything new, but fuck if he is going to give up.

Two hours later and that is just about the only thing he wants to do.

“FFFFUCK!” he shouts to the ceiling and throws his headphones down again. It’s all shit, complete and utter shit. With a frustrated growl he throws himself to the bed. So much for doing something new. He keeps his face pushed into the mattress. Maybe if he cuts off enough oxygen to his brain it will get the message and give him something to work with that doesn’t sound like every other fucking beat ever produced. The crinkle of plastic makes him lift his head. The disk is right there, half out of the bag, mocking him.

“Alright douche bag,” he growls and grabs the disk. “Let’s see just how fucking amazing this Spike guy is.” Sitting back in his chair he removes the vinyl he had been using and sets the little disk down. To his surprise the thing isn’t as damaged as he thought. Starting it up, Dave sets the needle down and sits back. There is only a second of static before the music starts, a piano and cornet. Fuck, a ballad. Dave sighs and lays back as a woman's voice starts playing.

_I shouldn't love him, he's lazy  
He sits around while I work_

Dave’s ears prick. Well that hadn’t been what he was expecting.

_But when he's near me my heart sings  
A serenade to a jerk_

He can’t help but snort at that. Alright, so maybe this wasn’t too bad, but still, not really all that ‘cutting edge’ like that prick had been saying.

_Sometimes he's stupid and hazy_  
Sometimes his brain doesn't work  
Still the guy plays on my heart strings  
A serenade to a jerk 

_Oh maybe I'm a little fool_

“No really?” Dave chuckles as he keeps listening.

_For loving the guy the way I do,  
Wonder why I'm stuck with him._

_Leaving him would drive me crazy_  
I'm sure that it wouldn't work  
So I'll pour my heart out by singing  
A serenade to a jerk 

The music drifts off into a trumpet and piano, tempo slow, and Dave finds himself settling back. 

Then the gun shots start.

“What the...?” Dave asks as the music suddenly picks up, and what was once a sweet womans voice turns gravely and almost mean as she sings. It’s the same verses as the rest of it, but this time the music is different, fast, with horns and whistles thrown in along with some guy who sounds like the biggest dumb ass on the planet. By the time the second verse is over Dave is sitting perfectly still, back straight, hands tight.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he looks at his turntables. The cogs are turning, a beat is forming, and before he knows it he is reaching for the needle to restart the song.

If he ever runs into that prick again, Dave isn’t sure if he’s going to want to punch him or kiss him. He might have to do both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated! Woo! Hope you all enjoy. Link to the song can be found in the first chapter.

The place is fucking packed, people wall to wall in every direction, and it’s hotter than a lava pit inside. Dave absolutely loves it. So far only a few people have gone onstage, and out of all of them only two have done anything even close to good. He couldn’t say much about their style though. One of them wore nothing but red, blue, and yellow, and the other one looked like some sort of greaser. He couldn’t say their music wasn’t good though, though the DJ that went by 2up, which he had corrected with one hell of a list to be ‘sup’, relied way too much on electronic sounds, especially buzzing.

“You’re going to wipe the floor with ‘em,” Bro says as he sips at his beer, and he would know, he is on the judging committee.

“Should you even be talking to me right now?” Dave asks as he sips at his water, the bright orange band on his wrist announcing to the world that he is very much underage. Well, only a couple years, but the bar wouldn’t care if it was a couple of days. They run a tight ship, and getting drink in here with that band on his wrist is almost impossible, not to mention they have upped security. This is one of those rare night that ‘The Felt’ clubs allows in the underage kids, but it is a special circumstance, and Dave had seen plenty of orange waving in the air. At least they’re making a killing with the under 21 cover charge.

“Sawtooth and the others know I won’t go easy on ya kid, so they don’t mind,” Bro tells him as he takes a sip of what smells like something cheap on tap. His eyes haven’t left the stage where the greaser looking guy is packing his stuff up. The guy, Dualsound as he had called himself, really hadn’t been half bad, but the mix of old school rock and rap hadn’t really gone over too well. Wrong type of crowd for that.

“Good to know you’ve got my back,” Dave murmurs.

“Only if you’re good,” Bro replies and gets up as the guy on stage moves down. “Kick some ass up there.” Then he’s up and moving away, chasing a set of legs that are wrapped so tight in denim it might as well be painted on. Dave rolls his eyes. Looks that guy will be getting at least a few bonus points.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dave murmurs as he takes a sip of his drink and pretends his hand isn’t trembling.

“And with that we will be taking a short intermission before our next three players go on,” a woman’s voice says over the PA. “For now, enjoy the spinning of our very own Sawtooth, who also happens to be one of your lovely judges tonight.” A large man with dark skin and a well groomed short boxed beard gets on stage. Dave sits back against the bar and heaves a sigh. From what he had been told he will be up after Sawtooth. Bro probably rigged it that way so he would feel even more nervous. What an ass.

“Better get to the back,” he says to no one and gets off his stool. It is immediately taken by a couple of giggling high school girls that get carder before they can even open their mouths. Dave moves through the crowd that is dancing like crazy with Sawtooth behind his ‘blades’ as people tend to call his disks. Bro told him once that the guy got his name when he broke a disk on stage and then spun it, never cutting himself once, but slicing a carrot or something while he played. Dave was pretty sure is was just because the guy had an unreal ability to bite through metal cans when he got drunk. Bro had almost lost a tooth trying to replicate the trick.

Pushing through the crowd Dave makes his way towards the back wall, passing the speaker line and flashing the secondary pink bracelet around his wrist to the bouncer blocking the area. He waves Dave passed, and the volume drops as he gets behind the speakers.The second Dave walks around the corner into the small room that the contestants are housed in his eyes are assaulted by a very bright flash.

“What the fuck,” he says as he flings his hands up, the light having pierced through his shades.

“Damn it, I thought I had finally gotten that to turn off,” he hears as he shoves his shades up on top of his head to rub at his eyes.

“Yeah, well apparently not,” Dave snaps as little purple dots dance in his vision.

“Here, let me try again,” the voice says through the muffled music.

Dave pulls his hands away to glare only for his eyes to be filled with white light yet again. “Holy FUCK what is wrong with you!” he cries out as he holds his hands over his eyes.

“Oh god, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he hears whoever this half baked photographer say.

“What, not get your shot,” Dave barks as he is finally able to see shapes and color again. The first thing he’s able to make out in the black lights is purple. Lots and lots of bright purple. There are stripes of it all over the guys clothes, on the rims of his glasses, in his ears, and he even has a streak of it in his hair for fuck sake! He looks like a fucking seahorse or something and …Wait a minute. “You, really?” Dave asks as he shoves his shades down over his eyes. The prick from the music shop is standing in front of him, a scowl on his face as he looks Dave up and down.

“I was goin ta say the same thing,” he huffs at him. “I can’t believe someone with as little musical taste as yourself is at a music competition, let alone backstage. Who’s ‘fingers’ did you have to suck to get back here?”

“Yeah, whatever, fuck you dude,” Dave replies and goes to push past him while he tries to blink the last of the lights out of his eyes. He does not want to deal with this guy right now, no matter how much fun it would be to tear him a new one or fuck with his head. What Dave really wants to do is get into the back room and sit down for a little while in the near silence, clear his head, and get ready for his set.

“Where do you think you’re goin?” The guy is suddenly right in front of him, making it impossible to enter the room without shoving him out of the way. “This room is for competitors only.” Oh god he wants to deck this fucker right in his fake ass glasses. That is some of the shittiest plastic he has ever seen.

“I am a competitor you fucking shutter bug,” Dave snarls and holds up his wrist, the bright pink of the band glowing just an inch from Eridan’s nose. “Now let me in so I can get ready for my set, or do you want to be the reason that these people have their music delayed.”

Seahorse boy sneers in response. “Probably be doin them a favor,” he says just loud enough for Dave to hear him, but steps aside. Dave moves past him and goes to sit down. This room is at least lit somewhat normally with dim white light instead of the black lights that fill the rest of the club. Dave sits down with a slight grunt and leans back in his chair, eyes closed. He lets Sawtooth’s beats start to swallow him when the voice is back.

“What’s your name?”

Dave cracks an eye. “Why the fuck do you want to know?” Dave asks.

“Because I’m the photographer for this galla and I need to make sure I get your name right when I put it in the paper,” he replies, his camera held at chest height. Dave can’t tell if the thing is really as old as it looks, or if it’s just some more fake bullshit. “Or would you rather me just make up something? I’m sure I could come up with something derogatory enough to go with your attitude.”

“Suck me,” Dave replies as he closes his eyes again.

“Maybe if you impress me out there,” is the come back he gets, and he has to admit it isn’t the one he is expecting. He cracks his eyes again to look at the guy. He really is wearing a ton of purple, though there is lots of black to balance it out, and thankfully no stupid scarf. To be honest it makes him look pretty good, not that Dave really cares. He would totally beat the guy out in looks in nothing more than his current t-shirt and jeans, hands down.

“But seriously. Just give me your name and then I can leave your sorry ass back here to drown with the rest of these poor bastards,” the guy says as he fiddles with his camera.

Dave heaves a sigh. Might as well make sure he gets the right name, even if his pictures are probably going to look like shit. “Dave Strider,” he says nice and loud. The guy checks a little pad of paper Dave hadn’t seen hanging around his neck and makes a mark next to it.

 

“Right, I’ll make sure to give it a typo,” the guy grumbles before turning to leave.

“You going to share yours?” Dave asks before he can walk away, and damn was his butt that nice last time or was this just a trick from the light he had flashed in Dave’s eyes? He pauses and turns. “Or should I just refer to you as the douche in purple for the rest of my existence?” He might as well know the ass holes name, make it easier to hate him. Probably make it easier for him to warn others away from him as well.

Dave kind of enjoys the way the guy seems to bristle under the lights, though it quickly fades. “Eridan,” he hears through the music. “Eridan Ampora.” Dave nods to show he heard, and makes no other movement to acknowledge his existence. Eridan hovers for a moment, his silhouette just visible between Dave’s slit eyes, and then he turns and leaves.

“Prick,” Dave mutters as he listens to the music start to drop. He closes his eyes and waits for it to swell again. It doesn’t.

“Fuck,” he grits out as he sits up, the woman’s voice from before coming back over the PA to talk Sawtooth off and him on. His stuff will be uptop, and he quickly pounds up the small staircase conjoined to the room as he goes to fetch it. Eridan the asshole had completely distracted him from getting into his zone, and as he pushed his own cart out he found his hands shaking more than they had been a little while ago. He starts unpacking his stuff as the girl gives him his introduction, talking up the few other gigs he’s done in town, and that he’s the brother of one of their other house DJ’s. Yeah, like he needed to be reminded of that before he went on.

“—so please welcome to the stage, DJ Turntech Godhead!” she finishes, and a cheer goes through the crowd as Dave sets up the last of his cords into place, flicks on his machine, and pulls out his disk. He has maybe five seconds before he loses the crowd, and he isn’t going to let that happen. With deft and shaking hands he gets everything into place before starting his rhythm.

The beginning of his mix starts out like the disk. A slow beat with something just fast enough over it, done in an almost piano like tone with the base beat going underneath. It takes a moment or two for the woman’s voice to come in slow and sad, some of the lyrics looping back on themselves for emphasis, and Dave lets out a shaky little breathe as his hands move. So far so good. He can see the people near the front swaying a little. They like it, that’s for sure, it’s just not what they want. Dave smirks to hide the deep breath he takes before letting his fingers fly. Time to give them what it is they do want. The slowness echoes for a moment before he drops the bass and the room fills with the wubbs and buzzes that the people are waiting for.

“Oh I couldn’t love him he’s lazy!” Comes over as an almost howl with the mix of dubstep and a brief entrance from a horn or whistle now and again. Dave looks up to find the crowd is going nuts over it, the bodies writhing over the floor as his hands move over his board and keep the words going, the beats ringing, and the crowd moving. He set is about six minutes long, but it seems to fly by as he settles into his groove, the music transmitting from his brain to his fingertips perfectly.

“A serenade to a, A serenade to a, A serenade to a—” the bass drops low before everyone shouts out into the almost silence ‘Jerk!’ and the song is over. Dave smirks at the top of the stage as he goes about quickly packing up, the woman on the PA already talking.

“Well I don’t think I’ve ever heard a mix like that,” she is saying as he pushes his stuff towards the back where Bro keeps his. He’s the only one competing who isn’t having the schlep their stuff out immediately. “Definitely an up and coming rival for that brother of his. But as Godhead leave the stage I hope you can keep that energy going for our next DJ, LoNak!” Dave barely pays attention to the sounds that come from the next player, the high of his performance still ringing through him. He comes down the steps into the back room with a grin as he expects to find Bro, but instead he is met with a camera flash.

“The fuck?” he sputters as he goes to rub at his eyes.

“I can’t believe you did it,” Eridan’s voice comes through the music on stage. Hands are suddenly on Dave’s shoulders. “You brought Spike back, and you didn’t make him sound like absolute swill.” Dave cracks his eyes to see Eridan beaming at him. “I-I have to buy you a drink. Come on,” he tugs at Dave’s wrist.

“Whoa, hey dude,” Dave cuts in as he pulls away and lifts his arm up. “Little problem with that.” The orange bracelet around his wrist glows bright. Eridan’s eyes dart between Dave and the orange band on his wrist.

“Fuck,” Eridan murmurs as his eyes skim behind Dave. “There.” Dave is suddenly spun around and pushed back towards a dark nook near the back.

“Are you serio—” Dave tries to gripe, but Eridan already has him pushed back in the little area away from the rest of the noise.

“What do you drink?” Eridan asks him, and he is close enough that the camera hanging from his neck is pushes against Dave’s chest..

Dave stares at him for a moment. “Wait, are you serious?” he finally says. God damn it is tight back here.

Eridan heaves an over dramatic sigh. “No, of course not. I brought you back here to suck you off because you impressed me,” Eridan deadpans. Dave blinks at him. “Oh my god, seriously, what do you drink?.”

The lights in the club shift and a black light lands right on Eridan’s face as he stares intently at Dave. His eyes glow an intense shade of violent along with that stupid strip of hair, and for a moment they are all Dave can pay attention to as the repetitive music of the current DJ booms over the speakers. The lights shift and Dave can suddenly speak again. “Angry orchard,” Dave says. It’s the only stuff he’s really liked so far that Bro’s brought home. Eridan blinks at him a little before smirking.

“At least you don’t drink that bud light swill,” is all he says before he disappears into the crowd. Dave tries to grab him as he leaves, to tell him that this is fucking stupid and that they’ll get caught. He barely skims the back of his shirt, and Eridan doesn’t even seem to notice it. With a sigh Dave leans back in the dark, empty alcove, everyone else out on the dance-floor, and blinks behind his shades.

“Damn camera flash,” he murmurs as he tries to blink away the two bright spots of purple that are burned into his retinas. Part of him only wishes they were left by the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun stuff will follow later I promise. And while I am planning on about 4 chapters, it may be a bit more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did my best to get this edited, but don't have as much time this summer with the internship, and wanted to get this out to y'all. I hope you enjoy, and if you do see any glaring mistakes in this, let me know either on here or over at my tumblr. My name over there is Leticheecopae as well.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy, and sorry for the long delay on this update!

“I had no idea you knew anything about photography,” Eridan says with a sloppy smile as they sit in the dark of the alcove. “Didn’t really seem the type.”

Dave isn’t too sure how many drinks Eridan has had, but he seems to have given up at paying attention to the music. Instead he just keeps gulping down alcohol like he needs it to breathe while Dave keeps working on his one drink. It’s a rather large drink, but it’s only one, and even at halfway done he feels just the barest warmth in his cheeks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dave asks as he tries to give Eridan a stoney face. There is a smile there that he can’t quite get rid of though. Must be because Eridan’s smiling. Damn thing is contagious. 

“W-well, I mean…” he trails off for a moment and Dave snorts. “You don’t look like you would enjoy photography. At least not the classical sense.” He takes a drink before continuing. “I can’t see you being around chemicals, unless you were huffing them,” he says the last bit with a point of his finger.

Dave lets it roll off of him. From what he can tell, this guy is one of the most insulting people he has ever met, yet half the time he doesn’t actually seem to realize he’s being insulting. Especially now that he’s just a bit past tipsey. He isn’t slurring or anything, but his odd little accent is coming out strong, and Dave likes hearing him stumble on his Ws and Vs.  
“Well,” Dave says and takes another drink. “You may be right about those fumes.” 

Eridan’s jaw just about hits the table. It’s been doing that a lot, and Dave’s been fighting to keep his jaw up as well. The guy can be a prick, that’s for sure, but he isn’t that bad. Eridan’s a decent photographer from what he’s shown Dave on his camera, the paper demanding he use a digital camera for the paper, and he doesn’t have such a horrible taste in music. Some of it’s a bit odd, and the show tunes are pretty unironic, but Eridan likes at least some electronica, rap, and dubstep. Apparently his big brother had gotten him into it.

“You’re kiddin, you havve a dark room?” Eridan’s eyes are wide behind his glasses, and Dave tries not to be so taken aback by his eyes. He has freaky irises himself, so why are these so striking to him? They’re just colored contacts. Must be.

“Made it myself,” Dave replies with a smirk. He sips on the cider in his cup, and is saddened to find he has very little left. He thinks briefly about having Eridan buy him another one, but that’s pushing it. Bro works here, and if he gets caught then Bro is in some deep shit. 

“I’ll be a fuckin seawhore if you did,” Eridan replies.

Dave snorts. “You mean seahorse?” he asks.

“That’s wwhat I said,” Eridan replies as he takes another drink, and it’s almost gone. When he pulls it away from his mouth he pauses. “Didn’t I?”

“I do-”

“And give it up for DJ Miracles and Mayhem,” the announcer says over the loudspeaker, and she doesn’t sound totally pleased. Dave doesn’t blame her. The sixth spinner sounded just a little...high. Like really high. For all those on a few special substances it was probably great, but from what little he was paying attention, all Dave had heard was some noise put to a base beat.

“Now, while our judges go over their decisions I invite you all to get a drink. And by drink, to all those underage music enthusiasts out there, I mean a coke or something. You touch that booze, you’re gonna lose.” Her voice crackles off, and pre-made songs filter out over the loudspeakers.

“Wwell hopefully you don’t,” Eridan says, and Dave turns to find him smiling.

“Huh?”

Eridan motions to Dave’s cider glass. “Lose.” 

“You’re a fucking dork,” Dave chuckles as he drinks down the last of his hard cider. 

“Wwant another?” Eridan asks.

Dave tries not to lose it. The little stutters are going to kill him, and he’s not sure in what way yet. “Nah, one and done,” he replies. “Don’t want to get this place in trouble.”

Eridan nods. “A noble endevvor.” He throws back the last of his drink. “I am not so noble.” Standing, Eridan wobbles a moment before he grabs his camera.

“And w-where are you going?” Dave asks, mimicking the stutter.

Eridan attempts to shoot him a glare, but it doesn’t quite work. “I-vve got a job to do,” he replies. “An’ I need to go get pictures. Speakin of wwhich.” 

Dave finds himself blinded again and lets out a curse. “You fucking son of a bi-” Something warm pushes to his cheek and cuts him off.

Eridan’s voice is barely loud enough to hear over the music. “Good luck.”

Dave opens up his eyes and tries to blink away the lights. When he finally does he is barely able to see streaks of purple making their way through the crowd. He can’t help but smile a little. “Prick,” he murmurs and gets up. He should head over to the stage anyways, everyone will be lining up.

When he gets over there, Eridan is already snapping away. The flash is a lot tamer now, and Dave wonders if he had just been using the brighter one to fuck with him. He goes and stands next to DJ 2up, and wonders blandly how someone can smell so much like stale sweets. He doesn’t have long to wonder as the lights come up a bit and Dave watches as Bro walks out on stage.

“Evenin’ everyone,” he says into the mic, and people roar back in response. “Guess I don’ have to ask ya if you’re having a good time.” He sticks a finger in his ear and twists, which gets a drunken laugh from the crowd. “So I’m gonna guess some of y’all are wondering just which one of these little MC’s are going to be crowned as our first place scratcher tonight.”

There is a roar, and Dave leans back against the wall next to the stage. All around him the other five contestants are jittering, especially the one on the other side of 2up. He hadn’t heard him play thanks to the fucking traffic, but from how bouncy they are he thinks they must have been somewhat poppy. Then again the hoody says something else. Eh, he doesn’t really care.

To be honest, Dave had expected more DJ’s the first night, but from what Bro had told him there had been so many they had to break it up into different nights. The first, his night is to just give a teaser of things to come. The top three from each night would battle it out at the end of the month. It was a better way for the bar to make revenue, and kept there from being too many bad musicians in one night.

“Alright then,” Bro says and holds up a piece of paper. “Now let me remind y’all that we judges based all scores not just on your reaction, but on actual talent. Sometimes you have the right music, wrong crowd, so for those who may not like a decision keep it to yourself.” There is shouting from the crowd. “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it.” Bro looks at his paper in one hand and holds the microphone in the other. “In third place, showing great skills in mash-ups, and some older rock knowledge, we’ve got Dualsound!” Bro points at the line, and Dave is only somewhat surprised to watch the greaser looking dude go up. There is a mixed reaction from the crowd.

“Now like I said,” Bro says as the guy comes up. “It’s not just about you guys. Even if you aren’t the biggest fan of the oldies, Dualsound did a good job doing a mash up.” He nods in Dualsound’s direction, and the guy gives a big grin back. “But not quite as well as our second place,” Bro adds. Dualsound’s face only drops a little. “I think Turntech Godhead just showed us how well those golden oldies can go with a good beat and one hell of a spin. Am I right?” There is another mixed roar, though more of it is on the plus side as Dave climbs up.

“An before y’all get your thongs all twisted up, yeah this little man is my little bro.” Bro throws his arm around Dave’s shoulder. “So you know where he gets it, but you also know I’m not letting him get away with some of those stylistic choices he made.” Bro looks down at Dave under his shades, and Dave rolls his eyes. “But he’ll hear enough about that at home, get your ass back there,” he adds and gently pushes Dave back towards where Dualsound is standing. There is more cheering as Dave stands next to the other.

“Now before I call out our first place, how about a round of applause for these guys? They put on a damn good show for y’all, if I do say so myself, and I do say so. So do the other judges, ain’t that right Sawtooth?” 

Sawtooth’s voice comes over the PA when the crowds roar comes down.“Stop hoggin the stage and get to it, Strider.” People laugh, whoop, and Bro chuckles. “Alright, alright. Then let me just say this. Most people say that first is the worst when it comes to just about anything, but tonight that was just the opposite.” Dave looks down at the bouncing energy ball next to 2up.

“So, to DJ Killin’Time, let me say congratulations!” The crowd explodes as Dave watches DJ 2up gets clobbered in a hug by the person next to him. The DJ then quickly makes their way up on stage, and Dave finds his eyes going wide. As they run up the stairs, DJ Killin’Time tugs off their hoody and throws it to the crowd, and a gal in a crimson tank top and with fluff black hair throws her hands up as the audience roars. Her dark skin glows with the lights as she jumps a bit on stage, and her energy seems to flow out into everyone else with how long it takes them to calm down.

“Well shit,” Bro says when people finally start to calm down, and he sounds just the slightest bit surprised as the girl does a little dance in the center of the stage. “I don’t think you’re getting that hoody back.”

She lets out a laugh, the crowd laughs with her, and Dave watches as camera flash after camera flash goes off below the stage as Killin’Time bounces back to join them. “Well, here you are. These are your three finalists from this round. Dualsound, Turntech Godhead, and Killin’Time. Give them all a round of applause!” The room explodes, and when Killin’Time lets out a woop of happiness, Dave can’t help but smile.

Eridan makes sure to get every second of it as he climbs up on stage and snaps away.

\---------

“Oh god I’m gonna puke,” Eridan groans as he stands with his hands braced against the wall. After photographs were taken and congratulations given, Bro and Sawtooth and taken up the turntables and sent everyone into a tizzy. At first Eridan had been fine, and while Dave had been a bit surprised when he had grabbed him to dance, he had been more than happy to go with him. Eridan is a prick, but he can dance, though all the dancing had lead to him getting just a bit sick.

“Jesus how much did you drink?” Dave asks. They are in the hallway near the bathrooms, and while he would rather be on the dancefloor, he isn’t about to leave the poor guy back here. At least he’s not missing his brother spin, another one of the local DJs having taken over.

Eridan replies to Dave with a groan. 

Dave lets out a sigh, and does his best not to stare at the others ass as he stands with his upper body almost perpendicular to the wall. It looks just as good to Dave as it had felt to have it grinding on him. Dave forces himself to tear his eyes away. “Do you need to me take you home?” he asks.

“No,” Eridan replies and shakes his head. “My brother can.”

Dave sighs. “Well, do you know where your brother is?” 

Eridan staggers up and peaks around the corner to the dancefloor. He squints for a moment before pulling out a nice looking phone and jabbing at the touch screen. A reply shows up in just a moment. Eridan looks like he’s going to chuck his phone before he spins to look at Dave. “He’s drunk,” Eridan replies before looking over his shoulder and glaring. Dave looks with him, though he isn’t sure who he’s looking for. He does spot his brother with Dualsound. If he didn’t know Bro better, he would have thought he had given Dualsound a pass because he was macking on him, but he knows better than that.

“Do you need me to drive then?” Dave asks. He’d rather stay, dance with Eridan some more, and make some more snide remarks about him being a ‘seawhore’, but from how his skin is reflecting the black lights he decides getting Eridan home would be a better idea.

 

“I-if that’s okay,” Eridan replies. Dave nods, and Eridan reaches for him. “C’mon then.” He leads Dave back towards the offices by the hand.

‘driving a friend home’ Dave shoots off in a text to Bro as Eridan picks up a bag in the back office. ‘make sure no one steals my shit’.

‘10/4’ Bro sends back.

Dave rolls his eyes as he looks up and finds Eridan slipping a camera bag over his shoulder. Eridan’s camera is most likely inside it since it isn’t on his person, and he is holding keys.

“Here,” he says and shoves them at Dave while he waivers. Dave takes them and watches as Eridan stumbles towards the back exit.

“Do you want me to get you some water before we go?” Dave asks as they go down the hall. Eridan shakes his head. 

“You sure?” Eridan nods as he hits the back door, and almost goes down. There are a few stairs, and Dave just barely catches him in time. “Woah, careful on those stairs bro,” Dave chuckles as he rights Eridan. He can’t help the smile at his own dumb joke. 

Eridan looks up at him, and god damn it. Even out here in the barest light from the old lightbulb above the door his eyes are bright. Dave finds himself feeling his face heating a bit as he looks down at Eridan, and Eridan’s eyes only seem to get a bit wider as he looks up. For a moment Dave wonders if he’s going to get one of those ridiculous movie kisses where Eridan’s foot will pop up and the whole nine yards. It makes Dave’s smile soften a bit as he looks down at him.

He stops smiling when Eridan suddenly doubles over and throws up on his leg.

“Oh god I’m s-so sorry,” Eridan pants when he manages to unwrap himself from Dave’s side and wipes at his chin. Dave stands stock still. “I-I’ll buy you a new pair. Twwo pairs, please jus-”

“Where’s the car?” Dave asks as he shakes his leg a little. Whelp, not everything could go well tonight.

Eridan stops talking and points at a black, classic, volkswagen beetle that sits near the end of the back parking area. 

“Okay, come on.” Dave takes Eridan by the arm and starts to lead him to the car. Eridan pukes only one more time on there way, and this time he manages not to do it to Dave. 

As Dave gets Eridan into the passenger seat, he hopes Eridan can give directions, and possibly provide him with an extra pair of pants. He doesn’t like the idea of taking the bus home covered in vomit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit look a chapter. Sorry for the delay. I catch up on writing for about a day before it torrents on me and I am swept off of my rock of peace. Still currently in the rip tide. Will attempt to update...something, again soon. Please enjoy!

“Turn right up here,” Eridan says as he looks out at the road with half lidded eyes. Dave can just make out Eridan’s pupils as they pass under street lights. He still doesn’t look too good, but at least he hasn’t puked again. The greyish tint to his face is a bit worrisome, however. He’s going to need water and some bread by the end of the night or he’s going to be sick as hell in the morning. Not that Dave is going to stick around for that. Well...maybe. Guy might need someone to watch over him if he’s this bad. Dave hopes he has a nice couch, or doesn’t mind sharing a bed if it’s big enough. Fuck sleeping on floors when sober. It’s impossible.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Dave asks as he makes the turn. They are going a lot further from the club than he thought they would. He had expected Eridan to direct him back in the same direction as the apartment complex he and Bro lived in. That was where most of the middle class living spaces were. Instead, they had gone the opposite direction, and Dave is seeing more and more upscale restaurants and buildings than he had expected.

“Of course I fuckin know where I live,” Eridan replies. He gently rolls his head so he can look at Dave. “I’m not that drunk.”

Dave snorts in response. “Okay, whatever you say. Which way now?”

“Just keep goin straight,” Eridan responds. “Look for the Sandsea Apartments.”

Dave almost forgets to break when they come to a red light. He had to have heard that wrong. “Sandsea Apartments?” he asks as he sits at the light.

“I didn’t fuckin stutter did I?” Eridan asks. “Thought I was over that,” he adds much more quietly, like Dave can’t hear him. Dave looks over at him and surprised at the odd little look of fear and contemplation that has come over Eridan’s face. Add in the undertone of him being sick to his stomach, and Dave isn’t quite sure what emotion is winning.

“No, you didn’t,” Dave replies. “Just, making sure I heard you right.” Eridan’s face falls back into sick and Dave tries not to look at him out of the corner of his eye too much. 

Sandsea Apartments. Shit. Not only does Eridan dress like a rich pretentious prick, but he really is a rick pretentious prick. People who live in Sandsea are some of the most well off people in the city. Dave and Bro make jokes about the people who live there. Like how their doorman actually did more than stand at the door, and that residents really do have people in the elevator to push the button for them so they wouldn’t chip a manicured nail. Even their parking area is gated, and in the city, that kind of premo parking is expensive. When it had first been built, Bro had even entertained the idea of living there before meeting the owners and some of the residents. He decided that they were fine where they were, especially since the roof was already taken.

“Here,” Eridan tells him. “Turn here.” He almost lunges over Dave to point, and if not for all his training, Dave would have probably swerved into oncoming traffic. It helps that the seatbelt snatches Eridan back before he can get too far.

“Whoa there,” he says as he lifts one hand and pushes Eridan back into his seat while looking for an opening to turn left. There is a bit more traffic in this part of the city, so they end up sitting for a moment.

“Sorry,” Eridan murmurs. “I just don’ feel good.” He mumbles it, and Dave watches him swallow out of the corner of his eye. He really needs to get him inside with some water.

The second there is a break in the cars, Dave turns into the drive. Unlike a lot of the other gated places, instead of just a box to swipe a card, there is an actual person sitting in the security box. Dave rolls his window down.

“ID and parking card,” the security guard says before Dave can say anything. His voice is bored as he leans through the window and extends his hand. Dave turns to ask Eridan for the items when he finds the boy climbing across his lap.

“Here,” Eridan says as he pushes one hand into Dave’s leg and the other against the windowsill. Dave lets out a little hiss at the painful pressure while the man in the security office takes the cards. “Hurry, please,” Eridan says as the security guard swipes the slate grey card and looks at Eridan’s ID.

“Apartment number?” the guy asks, and there is a bit of an amused twinkle in his eye.

“Suite 14,” Eridan says quickly. Dave can feel him shaking a little, and he knows he’s going to puke again.

“And what is your co-habitators name?” The guards eyes are going between Dave and Eridan, and Dave knows what he’s pulling. He thinks Eridan is flushed and ready for a romp, and he’s getting his jollies making him wait.

“Dude, seriously, hurry up,” Dave interjects. “My buddy here isn’t doing too go-” Eridan cuts in by throwing up over the side of the car. Dave sighs as Eridan shudders while he balances on top of Dave’s leg. He pats his back dully as he glares at the guard over his shades. Dave holds his hand out for the cards, which he is given, and the security gaurd at least has the decency to wipe the look of amusement off his face when Eridan sits up and runs his scarf over his mouth. Dave hands him his cards.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Ampora,” the man says. His tone goes back to its bland, bored cadence. “And guest,” he adds at the end. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Dave replies before pulling forwards. He flips the guy off as soon as the bar is up and he zips in. Eridan lets out a groan. 

The garage is filled with nice cars, many of them looking freshly washed and polished. Some didn’t even look like they had ever been driven.

“Parking space 413,” Eridan murmurs as Dave hunts for an open one. Of course they would have specific spots. Dave doesn’t respond to Eridan, but does look for the numbers printed neatly on the concrete in bright white numbers. Right now, the last thing he wants is Eridan attempting to talk. 

As soon as he finds the correct spot, he pulls the car in with himself as close as he can to the car on his left, and leaves plenty of room for Eridan. He’s going to need the space to get him out of the car. He needs to get Eridan to his place, get Eridan some water, get out of his puke coated jeans, and get clean. He carefully gets out of the car, doing his best to not hit the one next to him, and goes to the passenger side. 

“I’m fine,” Eridan says when Dave gets around to the other side. He is shakily trying to get out, and he looks anything but fine.

“Totally believe ya,” Dave says. “But, just to make sure you don’t trip and bruise that ego of yours, let me help.” He leans in, and helps Eridan get the rest of the way out of his car. 

“You’re a dick,” Eridan replies.

“I’m also the dick that’s taking you home,” Dave replies with an edge in his voice. Eridan turns his head away from him, and Dave sighs. God damn it. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.” Dave loops an arm under Eridan’s armpit and pulls one of Eridan’s arms over his shoulders.

“Lock the car,” Eridan mumbles as they start to walk. Dave hits the button as the begin to move. Eridan is moving very sluggishly, and despite his words, he leans most of his weight on Dave.

They make their way towards the elevator, and Dave feels a bit of unease at Eridan’s silence. Even in the car he would mumble things here and there, so why is he so quiet now? “So where are we going?” he asks him as Eridan holds out the card he had given the security guard. He passes it over a pad on the elevator and hits the up button. 

“Fourteenth flour,” Eridan replies. “One of the suites.” 

“A suite huh?” Dave asks as the doors slide open. “Makes sense.”

“What does?” Eridan asks.

“That you live in a suite when you can be so sour.”

Eridan lets out a snort. “Oh haha.”

Dave look around the elevator. “I thought you guys had lift workers.”

“That’s only during the daytime hours,” Eridan replies. “It’s to make sure the kids don’t hit all the buttons. That’s so fuckin annoyin when that happens.”

Dave is a bit surprised. “There are kids here?” he asks. “I thought you weren’t allowed to have them here.”

“Just a rumor,” Eridan replies as he pushes the large 14 button. It sits right above 12. Dave snickers. Seriously? He had thought people had stopped with that ridiculous superstition a long time ago.

“Dumb, I know,” Eridan replies. “But this place is worth the silliness.” 

Dave looks over at Eridan, and finds his eyes are closed. Eridan is gently waivering, and his glasses are dangerously close to the tip of his nose. The elevator dings, and Dave is surprised. It had barely made any noise on the way up. He hadn’t expected it to be going so quickly. The door opens into a very nice, but blandly decorated hallway. 

Eridan’s eyes slide open. “God I hate their decorator,” he murmurs as they move down the short hall to a door on the left with a silver plaque that says Ampora on it. On their right are windows that look out over part of the city. 

Dave looks around. “I can agree with you on that.” The only real accents are bland sea pictures along the walls and a sandy color scheme with a light blue color trim. “Why do you live here anyways?” he asks as Eridan waves his card again over the box and then punches in a series of numbers. The light beeps red.

“My Dad,” he replies when they are finally able to stumble into the door. “Was never at home, so when Cronus and I got our own, he made sure it was the best of the best.” He punches in the numbers again, and it turns green. “Guess he felt guilty for never being in ours.” Dave shifts under Eridan’s weight. “I picked the place due to it’s location,” Eridan adds as he pushes the door in. “Now I wish I had gotten something less…” he sticks a hand in front of them and waves it. “Flashy.”

“Really, I don’t think it’s flashy at all,” Dave says with a forced chuckle as they step inside. The smell of multiple hair products fill his nose along with a mixture of colones. One of them quickly matches with what Eridan is wearing.

Eridan pulls away from him and stumbles into the apartment. “Don’t be a prick,” he mutters, and Dave can hear his hand moving against the wall until he hits a light switch. Dave’s eyes are assaulted by light. Eridan makes a noise from the bright lights as well as Dave blinks until he can see. The place is pretty much spotless. Everything is clean and in place. The walls are lined with photos, posters of different bands, and a series of clashing decorations. The living room is filled with nice furniture, a big screen, an awesome looking sound system, and speakers hidden all over the place. A rather nice kitchen is off to Dave’s left, though it barely looks used. There aren’t even any dishes in the sink. It’s like standing in a mockery of a home. All the personal effects are in place, but there doesn’t seem to be any living done in the room.

“You and your brother are pretty clean aren’t ya,” Dave says as he walks over to Eridan, who is using the wall to keep himself standing.

“Maid,” Eridan replies. “I...I may need help to my room.” He sticks his arm out, and Dave quickly pulls it over his shoulder. “I’m on the right.” Eridan motions his head towards a hall that starts at the very end of the living room on the right that mirrors on on the left. They head for it in staggering steps. The hallway has two doors. One at the end, and one on the right. To his left are plate glass windows. The curtains over them are just sheer enough that he can see the city lights as he passes. Eridan keeps them moving towards the far door, and Dave helps him into what looks like a bedroom in the dim light from the hall.

“Bed,” Eridan says, and Dave moves towards the hulking frame. He deposits Eridan on some sort of bench at the very end. “Trashcan,” Eridan adds as he rips off his glasses, and Dave is suddenly searching. It’s too dark to see much, especially with his shades, but he finds a desk lamp and from there a small trashcan. He gets it to Eridan just in time. The guy vomits right into it, and Dave turns his back to give him some privacy. Instead, he turns his attention to the room, and is a bit blown away. The whole place is covered in wire with hundreds of clothing pins hanging from them. Some hold pictures, others are empty, but there are at least a few dozen being held up all over. Some are of people, some are things, and others he can only see the back.

“Did you take all these?” Dave asks as he looks at an overexposed picture of what looks like some sort of flower.

“Uh-huh,” Eridan replies before letting out another wave of puke. Dave refuses to look at Eridan. Instead he keep looking at the room. The furniture is nice, but for some reason he doesn’t feel like it fits with the blacks purples and golds decorating the room. It’s more like it was chosen for Eridan instead of Eridan choosing it himself. Lots of dark wood where Dave would have predicted shitty newage furniture with too many knobs. At least it feels lived in. There are some clothes on the floor, books strewn over the desk, and a series of products all over his dresser.

“They’re good,” he says as he goes to another picture. It’s a woman smiling. One half of her face is crisp while the rest is out of focus. “Can’t believe you can do this just with film.”

“Film is king,” he tells Dave slightly out of breath. Dave turns and finds that Eridan doesn’t look quite as grey, but he doesn’t look good. “Bottom drawer,” Eridan says as he leans against the footboard. “Pick something would ya? I don’t want you trackin anymore vomit through my house.” 

“Think you’re doing enough of that,” Dave says as he glances at the floor. Eridan glances down as well and lets out a groan when he sees the multicolored puddle. 

“Fuuuck,” Eridan groans as Dave goes through the bottom drawer. He finds some shorts and a t-shirt that are pleasantly soft in Dave’s hands. 

“Where’s your shower?” Dave asks. 

Eridan motions to a door next to the one they had entered through. “Just leave your crap on the floor,” Eridan says. “We’ll deal with ‘em tomorrow.”

“You know, you can just put them in a bag and I can take them home, right?” Dave says. He’s definitely getting Eridan taken care of, but he’s not about to invite himself over. Bro taught him manners damn it, even if they were usually hard pressed to show them. “You don’t have to clean them for me.”

 

“I puked on them I can damn well get them cleaned,” Eridan replies. “Now go shower. I want to, too.” 

Dave smiles at him. “You could always take one with me,” he says with a chuckle. “If I remember, we did make a wager involving my dick.” He is surprised at just how much color suddenly comes back to Eridan’s cheeks. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and then he looks like he’s going to be ill again.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dave interrupts. “I was kidding. You don’t have to do that.”

Eridan’s face falls a little, but he looks a bit more relaxed. “O-oh, I knew that,” he replies. The color gets worse, and against his greyish skin, he looks almost like he has a fever.

“You sure you don’t want the first shower?” Dave asks him. 

“No. The room’s still spinning.” He waves Dave towards the door to the bathroom. “Just hurry up.”

“Okay, okay,” Dave replies. “Though seriously, if you need the bathroom, just come in. It’s not like I mind. “ He tries to be cool with the words, but with the way Eridan’s cheeks heat up, it’s a little hard to do.

“Like I’d ever want to shower with you,” Eridan huffs.

“I think you kind of did after you heard me spin,” Dave points out. 

Eridan looks up at him with a glare and a dark blush. “Unless you want a caribbean sunset poured on your head,” he jabs his thumb towards the bucket. “You should get in the damn shower.” 

Dave can’t help but give a smirk at that, but he goes. Once inside, he looks down at his leg. While the denim sucked most of the color out of Eridan’s puke, his shoe tells him that Eridan isn’t kidding. It does look like a god damn sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be smut. I swear. I just accidentally plotted a little harder than I meant to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping jackhammers batman. Smut! Sorry about the wait y'all, I hope this chapter is worth your wait!

Music is what brings Dave around. Soft, ringing music. It wakes Dave up slowly, his body feeling like it’s floating for a moment, and it’s way too warm. As Dave becomes more alert, he starts to feel distinct things again, like the covers sticking to his leg, and that he’s apparently tangled up with his body pillow again. Dave goes to move it out from between his legs, and quickly remembers that body pillows don’t have knees.

“Huh?” Dave asks blearily as he turns his head and finds a streak of bright violet at eye level.Or black. It’s too dark for it to really be a color. “Oh yeah,” he says with a yawn as he blinks around Eridan’s room.  
After showering, Dave had come out to find Eridan nursing a glass of water and the bucket of puke having disappeared. Eridan had then escaped into the bathroom and took his own shower. It was during that time that Dave heard at least six or seven almost falls, a string of curses, and a seriously overdone tooth brushing session. It was around the fifth almost fall that he had realized Eridan could not sleep alone with the amount of booze still in his system. It became even clearer when he heard all the water Eridan had drank come up right after the ferocious brushing had stopped. By the time Dave had helped Eridan off the floor, the violet eyed bastard had no choice but to let Dave pull him into bed and let him lay down next to him. Well, kind of. Dave got as far away as he could on the king sized bed. He did not need a puke bath in the middle of the night.

“Hey.” Dave’s voice is soft as he tries to disengage with the elbows in his ribs and the hand in his hair. “I think you transform into an octopus in your sleep,” Dave says as Eridan stirs. He can just see him in the odd light coming in from between the blinds. The light is very dim, and Dave wonders just what time it is.

“Shut up,” Eridan replies, though he doesn’t let go. “An stop movving, you’re makin me seasick.”

Dave stares at Eridan a moment. “Mov-ving?” he asks. 

Eridan shoots away as if he were burned.“I-I didn’t say that,” he claims before Dave watches his face go ashy grey. With a very impressive show of speed, Eridan vaults off the bed, rushes into the bathroom, and pukes.

Whelp. This is going to be a fun morning. "Is that the stutter you were talking about last night?" Dave calls as he gets up and stretches. The response he gets is a harsh retching sound. The music playing is a welcome distraction from the noise, and Dave starts searching for it. He finds a clock on the side table. It is barely past 5:30 am according the arms circling the face. "Why the hell did you set an alarm?"

"What?" Eridan asks when he finally comes out of the bathroom. He looks like hell. His skin is grey, his cheeks are bright, and there is a sheen of sweat on his face. 

"The alarm, dude," Dave replies. "Why the fuck would you set a 5:30am alarm for a Saturday?"

Eridan's eyes grow so wide so fast that Dave is afraid that he'll be scrubbing the floor. "Nooooo," Eridan groans as he suddenly sinks to the floor. "God damn it," he murmurs. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Dave yawns. “Turn that thing off and get back in here. I want a few more hours.” Dave lays back down and throws the blanket over his head, 

“I can’t,” Eridan replies, and it isn’t the reply Dave was expecting. He pops his head out just a little. Dave watches as Eridan stands up on shaking legs. “I have to go get my camera. I have to get those pictures in to my boss so we can put them in the evening paper.” Dave watches him stumble over to the dresser and lean over to flick on a light.

It makes Dave have to shut his eyes for a moment before they adjust. Seeing Eridan out of his clothes, he looks even skinnier than before. Dave had noticed it last night when Eridan had drunkenly insisted that he couldn’t sleep in anything but briefs, that he got too warm otherwise. He’d been blushing the entire time while Dave had done his best to keep from looking at his soft stomach and barely there muscle. Now, Dave is not staring at his ass. He’s staring at the fish on his briefs. Yeah...the fish, the fish that are gently trembling because Eridan’s legs are shaking so damn hard.

“What time do you need them by?” Dave asks as he goes to get out of the bed. There is no way Eridan is going to make it down to the parking garage. 

“Six thirty at the latest,” Eridan replies as he pulls out a drawer, and then a shirt. “God damn it, I can’t believe I got drunk last night.” He smacks at the drawer. It closes half way, and Eridan lets out a hiss as he shakes his hand. 

“I’ll be back in ten,” Dave replies as he snags the shirt out of Eridan’s hand. “Just lend me some pants.”

Eridan looks back at Dave in surprise. “Wwhat?” 

That stutter again, but all that Dave does is smile at it this time. Eridan is staring him like he’s just dropped down from heaven, and he kind of wants to keep that look on his face. “I’ll go get the camera. You just get your sober legs back, okay?” 

Eridan keeps staring, and Dave shifts from one foot to the other. Having those bright eyes focussed on him is a bit uncomfortable. “What?” he finally asks. “I have puke on my face?”

“Huh?” Eridan comes back from wherever his brain went. “Oh, no, I just...I haven’t seen eyes that color before.” 

Dave reaches up out of instinct. No shades. He tries not to swallow visibly, and keeps the hand movement going, pulling it through his hair as if he had meant to do that the whole time. “Could say the same about yours,” he points out. “Going to assume they aren’t contacts now.” 

“Why would I wear contacts with glasses?” Eridan asks as he takes the shirt back from Dave, and puts it on. Dave’s eyes dart down to watch Eridan’s stomach get swallowed up in the t-shirt. The shirt is old, soft looking, and Dave knows it’s a house only shirt. Has to be with this guy. He had to brush his hair before bed last night, and it’s not a whole lot longer than Dave’s.

Dave shrugs. “Because you’re a hipster?” 

Eridan rolls his eyes and goes back to the drawers, he pulls out a pair of what look like sweat pants, and shoves them at Dave. “Do you still have the keys?” Dave nods as he goes about changing and putting on his shades. The pants are a little short, but they are extremely comfortable, and very soft. Eridan may not be getting these back. He watches Eridan out of the corner of his eye as he adjusts them, and he’s sure he catches Eridan looking at his ass.That, or he’s looking past Dave to the bathroom. All the moving around seems to be taking a lot out of him.

Dave makes the trip down to the garage as quick as he can. When he gets into the lift, there is a man there that pushes the G button, and doesn’t talk. Dave doesn’t say anything either. He’s too damn tired to come up with anything good enough to push this guys buttons with, even if his own mental pun makes him chuckle a little. Even when he gets back from the car with the camera bag in tow, he still doesn’t have anything to say. Dave’s totally climbing back into that bed and crashing while Eridan gets his shit sent off. They’ve slept for maybe three hours, tops. Dave can’t believe Eridan isn’t still drunk. 

The door is unlocked when he comes back up, one of his shoes shoved between the door and the door frame. How kind of Eridan to squash his shoe. Dave kicks it out of the way as he heads back to Eridan’s room. “Got it,” he calls to Eridan, who is sitting in front of his laptop, glasses on his nose. A scarf has been added to the odd ensemble, and Dave can see that Eridan is shivering a little. He hopes he hasn’t actually gotten sick.

“Good,” Eridan says and reaches for it. “I ordered breakfast. Should be here in a minute.” 

Dave stares dumbly at Eridan. “You did what?” 

“I ordered breakfast,” Eridan replies. He starts taking things out of the bag. Dave still isn’t sure what’s happening. 

“It’s not even six in the morning, on a Saturday, who the fuck delivers breakfast this early?” he asks as he walks over to the bed and sits down.

“The restaurant in the lobby has a bakery,” Eridan replies as he pops a memory card from the camera. “They open at 5 every mornin. Good coffee, though I figured we’d just eat and go back to sleep.” Dave watches him put the card in and then click around on his computer. “Or at least, you can eat,” he replies as he looks over at a glass on his desk. “Not sure how well my stomachs goin to be doin when it comes to eatin.” He shivers. “But you can eat it, or just shove it in the fridge. All I ordered was bagels and cream cheese.” 

The doorbell zings through the room, and Eridan jumps a little. Dave manages to stay calm.

“Damn thing,” Eridan grumbles before turning to his computer and yawning. “Wwould you get that?” His shoulders go a bit stiff, but Dave doesn’t comment. He doesn’t feel like being a dick right now, besides, the guy is feeding him. Eridan relaxes and keeps talking. “It’s already paid for, so just take it from the guy.” 

Dave gives a nod, a yawn, and then heads out to procure the food from a sleepy looking teen who shuffles down the hall as soon as the bag is out of his hand. Dave can feel warmth radiating from the bag, and peeking inside finds little cups of cream cheese and warm bagels. 

“Do you want one?” Dave calls out as he closes the door and walks into the kitchen.

“No,” comes back faintly. “I’d rather not spend the rest of the mornin on the toilet. You go ahead.” 

Dave looks back down into the bag and shrugs. “Don’t mind if I do,” he murmurs as he pulls out the bagel, already toasted and everything, and goes about adding cream cheese with a little plastic knife that looks almost like real metal. In a few moments he has a cream cheese sandwich. He uses a napkin from the bag as a plate, and heads back to Eridan with a mouth full.

“Man ‘dis is goo,” he says around the mush that was once bread. Eridan doesn’t even look back at him. His fingers hold a pen that is flying over some sort of digital pad, his mouse no longer in play. Dave walks up behind him and looks over Eridan’s shoulder. He stops chewing. 

The picture is amazing. It’s the girl who had won the night before, standing at the turn tables and looking like she is having the most fun a human could possibly have. Everything about her screams excitement and happiness. “Man I wish I could have heard her play,” he mutters, and Eridan just about rockets out of his chair.

“Don’t, do that!” he yells at him before his face falls. “Oh fuck.” Dave is pushed out of the way as Eridan dashes back to the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” Dave calls as he hears retching. He tunes it out easily before going back to looking at the picture. The lighting is really well balanced, and the framing looks awesome. He can see where Eridan has fixed some highlights and over exposures, but for the most part the picture is untouched. “This is really good,” he calls before taking another bite. He sits in the chair and sets down the rest of his bagel. Using the mouse, and not the pen, he goes and clicks on a minimized folder. Pictures with the yesterday’s date pop up.

Dave starts clicking. He sees more of the girl, some of the other players, himself. He goes through them before hitting the bottom of the page. Some of them are bad, the lighting off or people not looking. The one with him coming out of the backstage room is awful. With the overexposure, Dave looks white as a sheet. The framing for it was good at least. Yet they all had something to them that felt real, alive. A feeling that he lacked in his amatur shots, even with good light and framing. “They’re all really good,” he adds as he closes out of the folder and clicks back into the other window.

“Thanks,” Eridan replies as he comes back into the room. “Now do you mind givin me my chair back? I need to get this sent immediately. It’s my ass if I don’t.”

Dave gets up as asked, grabs his bagel, and proceeds to go back to looking at the pictures hanging from the ceiling instead. He takes down a picture of a child catching a ball. The ball is in perfect focus, but the child is blurred. “Are these all film?”

“Most of those are,” Eridan replies. “I prefer it as a medium.”

“I agree,” Dave replies as he muches, the bagel disappearing quicker than expected. “Digital is nice and all, but there is just something about watching your shit forming in those chemicals and having to pull it out just at the right moment.”

The scratching on the tablet stops. “Y-You do photography?”

Dave turns to find Eridan starting at him. With a grin he puts the photo back. “I dabble,” he replies. “Nothing has ever turned out as good as these, but I’ve got a dark room and mess around now and again. No big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Eridan replies with a surprising volume. “Barely anyone uses film anymore, and the fact that you actually develop it yourself...well.” He turns back to his computer. “Maybe you’re a bit classier than I thought.”

“‘Ey, I nofin bu ‘assy,” Dave says back with a mouth full of food before swallowing. “I was enough of a gentleman to take you home wasn’t I?” Dave watches Eridan’s cheeks go a bit pink as he continues to working. He doesn’t respond.

Dave turns back to the multitude of photos. He recognizes some places around town, and in one corner he finds what looks like pictures of the record shop. There are stylized pictures of boxes, records, a couple of Tavros, and…

“There, sent,” Dave hears behind him as he reaches up for the last picture. “Now I can die in my sleep.” Dave doesn’t pay Eridan much mind as he takes down the picture. He can hear him shuffling around behind him, closing the computer and then shuffling back into the bathroom where he hears the sounds of toothbrushing. 

Dave is still looking at the picture when he hears Eridan heading back to the bed. He turns to watch the guy pull off the shirt and sweatpants again before clamboring under the covers. “When did you take this?” Dave asks as he climbs up onto the bed himself, though from the opposite side. The picture is of Dave in the back room, holding a record with a contemplative look on his face. In it, dust motes hang around him as the sun from the high windows lights up the left side of his body. He has earphones on, and the shiny plastic creates just a slight glint of light. His body is just off center, making the record almost more of a focal point than himself. He doesn’t remember seeing a camera bag the day they had met, and he’s positive he wasn’t wearing that shirt.

“Which one?” Eridan asks as he reaches out his hand. “Not to boast, but I’ve taken over a thousand of these.” He tries to sound nonchalant about it, but really he just sounds exhausted. 

Dave rolls his eyes as he hands over the picture, and he notices something on the back. Eridan’s fingers cover it up when he takes it, keeping Dave from reading it. The second Eridan’s eyes alight on the photo he blanches. His eyes dart between Dave and then the picture. “I-I…” he stammers.

“Dude, chill.” He snatches back the photo and grins as Eridan tries to grab for it. “Just want to know how long you’ve been stalking me.” 

Eridan’s face goes red. “I have NOT been stalkin you,” Eridan snaps as he sits back. “I took that before we had ever had our little chat weeks ago.” He stands up on his knees as he talks. “The lightin was good, I had my camera, and you just happened to be the subject.” Eridan crosses his arms and stares Dave down with a glare. Dave pays little attention as he reads the somewhat loopy and deliberate hand writing on the back. A smile creeps over his face as he looks between the words and Eridan.

“I see,” Dave replies as he turns the picture around so Eridan can see the back. “Any reason then why you wrote ‘Beautiful Stranger’ on the back?” 

Eridan’s cheeks look like they are going to explode. Dave lets out a laugh before quickly trying to stifle it. Eridan’s eyes have dropped, and it looks like he might just cry, or puke, or punch him. Maybe all three. “I’m sorry,” Dave starts. “It’s fucking early, less than twelve hours ago we hated each other, and now I’m about to crawl into bed with you and become your body pillow. It’s too fucking ironic not to laugh at. I mean, shit.” Dave looks up at Eridan. “You’ve seen my eyes already, and the only people who’ve see those are Bro my friends, and some guy who knocked them off in high school.” With each word Eridan seems to go from angry, to confused, to stunned, until he is staring at Dave with his arms loose over his belly.

“Wwhat?” he asks, and he doesn’t even seem to notice his stutter.

Well that was a lot of personal information. Shit. “Okay, you know how you don’t like that stutter of yours,” Dave says, and Eridan blushes.

“I-I don’t stu-” he starts.

“Yes you do, and it’s cute as fuck so shut up,” Dave says, and Eridan’s mouth snaps shut. He looks at Dave with a blush and wide eyes. Dave clears his throat as he feels a little bit of embarrassment creep into his chest. Why is he telling Eridan this? “Well, I don’t like people seeing my eyes. Not a big fan of ‘oh my god look it’s Satan’ and all that shit. Hard to make friends when everyone thinks you’re a freak.” Dave looks down, though Eridan can’t see his eyes anyways. When he looks up, Eridan is still staring at him.

“You going to say something, or just keep sta-” Eridan’s movement makes Dave jump, though he manages not to punch him when he realizes what is happening. The kiss is dry, sloppy, and too quick to be much of anything.

When Eridan jerks back, they can only stare at each other. Eridan’s arms are tight around his middle and Dave just sitting on the bed loosely. That had been...well. That had been... He goes to open his mouth and form words, but is immediately shot down. 

“Don’t,” Eridan says, though he refuses to look at Dave. “Just...don’t.” He reaches up with one arm to rub at his hair widely before dropping his hand. When he finally looks at Dave his eyes are a bit wild. “Yes I took the picture because I thought you were attractive, and yes I came up to you that day because I had been wanting to meet you. Then I learned how much of a prick you are, or can be, and after that thought ‘well this is never goin to fuckin happen’. But now were here, and you’re telling me shit, and I’ve seen your eyes and...and...” Dave’s head tumbles a little as he tries to keep up with Eridan’s quick words. “And all I wanted to do at the club was give you a damn kiss because, god damn it, you made Spike come alive. Now you’re also a fuckin photographer who uses film and I just...I…” he doesn’t seem to know where to go all of a sudden. His hands fall and he sits back on his calves. “God, I’m sorry,” he finally says and reaches up to rub at his eyes. “That was...that was fuckin…” He starts to get up. “I’ll call ya a cab.”

Dave’s brain kicks back in, and his hands get around a thin wrist fast. Eridan looks as surprised as Dave feels. “I’d really like to get some more sleep first, if that’s okay with you,” Dave says quietly, almost afraid that Eridan will run if he talks much louder. “And you really should to, I mean, you’ve been puking all night, and you’re all flush and clammy. I think you might be getting sick, and, you know, sleep is the best thing to do when your sick, and it’s always good if there’s someone with you when you’re sick. To take care of ya, and-.” As Dave keeps talking about all the things that are good to do when someone is ill, Eridan’s face falls, though just a little. That doesn’t make sense. He wants to stay here with him. Shouldn’t that make him smile? Or...Shit, the guys thinks Dave’s just worried he’s still drunk, or sick, and that is not what he was going for. 

Taking a deep breath, Dave stops his sick rant and tries something else. “Plus, that was a shit kiss dude. Gotta give me something better than that. Those sneak attacks aren’t fair.” As if lit with a match, Eridan’s face brightens considerably. His cheeks go ruddy again, his eyes are wide, and Dave is taken aback by their bright color again. “I mean,” he pulls Eridan closer. “Gotta give a guy some time to show he’s got some skill.” 

Eridan’s back is very warm when Dave wraps his arm around it, and he can feel the guy trembling a little. The idea that he might actually be sick flitters through his head, but it dissipates pretty quickly as he watches the way Eridan relaxes under his hands. They stand on their knees, Dave’s arms around Eridan’s waist, and Eridan’s hands on his arms. Dave leans in, and Eridan’s mouth meets his in a ridiculously sweet kiss; as tender as a baby’s backside and twice as soft. 

The hands on his arms squeeze for a moment, before they slide up and around his neck. Eridan’s mouth moves with his, complimenting every press and suck until they are forced to pull back for air. Eridan’s eyes are half closed, and Dave finds he is way too warm in his clothes. 

“What do you think?” Dave asks. “Do I have some skill?” 

Eridan nods sluggishly before leaning back towards him. 

Dave chuckles. “Want another taste?”

“Shut up and fuckin kiss me,” Eridan replies, and this time the kisses are harsher, Eridan’s hands pulling Dave closer by the hem of his pants. Warm hands slide up under his shirt, and Dave grips at Eridan’s lower back. He is surprised when one of Eridan’s hands grabs his and pushes it firmly to his ass.

“Now who’s classy?” Dave asks during a breath. His response is an almost growl as Eridan’s hands both grab a handful of his backside. He will not admit that he makes a sound, but he does, and he then gets Eridan to make one too. On the next breath break, Dave’s shirt comes up, and his shades go with it, tangled in the fabric. For a moment he feels panic. He’s never really made out with anyone with them off, not unless it was really dark. Eridan either doesn’t notice the hesitation, or doesn’t care. Eridan instead runs his hands up Dave’s chest, fingering over a few scars here and there, and traces the muscle. When they reach his head, Eridan grabs the back of Dave’s skull and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. Dave decides the shades can go fuck themselves, because god damn it this is hot.

Somehow, they manage to get Dave into a laying position as Eridan straddles his hips and keeps kissing him. Dave’s hands stay on his ass, squeezing, massaging. Eridan’s mouth travels down, and finds Dave’s neck. The nips and sucks are light, not enough to leave a hickey, but enough to make Dave’s hips buck a little as his cock strains in his pants. 

“I think I owe you a blowjob,” Eridan says softly, his voice wavering between sultry and shy.

Dave bites his lip before talking. “Shit, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m just enjoying this.” He squeezes Eridan’s ass. God it’s plush. 

“No, I made a bet,” Eridan replies. “And I am goin to hold up my end of the deal.”

Dave watches as Eridan kisses down his body, and is sad to have to relinquish his ass. The warm kisses trailing down his body makes up for it, and soon Eridan’s long fingers hook into the hem of Dave’s pants and boxers before pulling them down his thighs. Dave’s cock pops loose of the fabric and bounces against his belly. Eridan looks down at it and licks his lips. Those warm fingers wrap around Dave’s cock, and he gives a moan.

“Probably not the best time for this,” Eridan says as he gently strokes. “But, are you, well...clean?” 

Dave closes his eyes and nods. He hadn’t even thought of that. Good thing Eridan seems to be as neat with his sex life as he is with his hair. “Got checked a month back. Haven’t been with anyone since.” He cracks an eye at Eridan. “You don’t have throat herpes or something do ya?” 

Eridan squeezes his cock and Dave lets out a gasp. “No. I haven’t been with anyone since my last check up either. Though I swear to god if you give me somethin I will find you and cut off your dick.” He gives another squeeze before lifting his palm to swirl it over the head of Dave’s cock. Dave lets out a stutter of air.

“Fair enough,” he says with a little pant. “When was the last time you were wi-” Eridan quickly cuts off the question as he leans down and quickly pops the tip of Dave’s dick into his mouth. His tongue swirls over the glands, pushes into the slit, and Dave is scrambling to get his hands in Eridan’s hair. It’s surprisingly soft, a bit damp, and Dave’s fingers anchor in at the roots. “Oh shit,” he pants as Eridan looks up at him. Slowly he sinks his mouth down over Dave’s cock, taking in centimeter by centimeter until he has almost all of Dave in his mouth. 

“God damn it,” Dave says and has to look away. The sight is too fucking good, and Dave is already fighting to not buck into Eridan’s mouth. He hasn’t forgotten that he had just been puking a little while ago.

Eridan pulls his head up slowly, swipes his tongue over the tip, and then goes back down. One of his hands pushes back the clothing around Dave’s thighs, and finds his balls. Dave doesn’t expect it, he really doesn’t, but that’s just a bit too much for him. His fingers tighten in Eridan’s hair, and the second he hits the back of Eridan's throat, Dave knows it’s over. He watches as violet eyes go wide before Eridan come up quick, his teeth grazing Dave’s shaft, and pushes a hand to his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Dave tries to call between gritted teeth as Eridan rushes to the bathroom and he cups his cock. A pathetic gagging sound follows. Dave collapses back on the bed. The spit on his cock is cooling, and with each gag Dave hears, he gets softer. “God damn it,” he murmurs before getting up and pulling his pants back up. 

Eridan is hugging the bowl and dry heaving when Dave enters the bathroom. “Hey,” he says and squats down, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just...well to put it bluntly ball tickling is probably one of the best ways to get me bucking.”

“No shit,” Eridan replies with a raspy gasp before he heaves again. Barely a trickle of saliva comes out of his mouth before he somewhat collapses against the bowl. From what Dave can tell, not much came up.

Dave gently rubs Eridan’s back as the guy pants. He really is warm, too warm, and Dave feels bad for even letting him try to suck him off. “Come on,” he says when it looks like Eridan is back to normal. “Lets get some more sleep.”

Eridan nods, and lets Dave help him up. They only pause for a moment so that Eridan can get a drink of water, and then they both head to bed. Dave helps Eridan into the bed, gets out of his borrowed sweat pants, shuts off the lamp, and then lays within prime cuddle distance. Eridan immediately wraps around him, and he’s shaking just a little.

Dave manages to get an arm under Eridan, and strokes at his hair. “It was really good, even if it was short.” he says out of nowhere as they lay in the semi darkness. The sun is coming up outside, and grey light is peaking through the blinds and curtains. 

Eridan lets out a snort before speaking in a raspy semblance of his voice. “You’ll havve to let me try again,” Eridan replies. “Though givve a guy some fuckin wwarnin.”

Dave feels him tense a moment, and he squeezes Eridan with the arm around his shoulders. “Only if you do the same for me.”

Even in the dim light he can see Eridan blush.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer has been acting a bit weird, so if any major mistakes are found please let me know. My beta helped me quite a bit, but I'm not sure if they all stuck or if my computer caused more harm than help with some of its hiccups.

The club is ridiculously warm with the amount of bodies packed into it. Dave wonders how in the hell the fire marshall hasn’t been called yet with the amount of people crowding to get a spot in front of the dance floor. There is barely any standing room with the amount of music lover that have come out for the final show, and Dave has nerves chewing at the pit of his stomach as he waits for his turn. There are nine of them tonight, and in true brotherly fashion, Bro has stuck Dave at the end of the playlist to make him squirm.

“And give it up for DJ Pulse and Haze,” Bro says as a shorter guy gets off stage. His music had been good, really harsh and a bit angry, but good. He had a way with scratching, though Dave could hear some whimsey underneath. It would be hard to know where he would fall though. There had been lots of mash-ups since Dualsound and himself, but Pulse and Haze, Killin’Time, and Tavros, under the name of FlamingWingBeats, had all done original stuff. It would be interesting to see where the judges would settle everyone.

The head that settles on Dave’s shoulder feels natural as it sits in the space where it curves into his neck; the hand around his waist is loose. “Damn, I didn’t think he would be that good.” Eridan murmurs, his voice just barely audible under Bro’s words as he preps the crowd for their final performer. Dave tries to focus more on Eridan than his brothers words. 

“You know him?” Dave asks. He’s all nerves, but Eridan’s body heat makes the slight tremble in his belly calm a bit. 

“Old highschool friend,” he replies with a shrug. “Lost touch in college.”

Dave looks over his shoulder at him and smirks. “Should I be jealous?” 

“It would be over nothin’. Never could get Kar out on a date.” Eridan says. “For the best I guess since I’ve got me one of the best DJ’s in Texas.” 

“Oh, I’ve graduated to the best in the state instead of just town?” Dave asks with a grin. 

Eridan heaves a sigh that Dave’s more feels than hears. It is followed by a kiss to his cheek. “Blow an amp or whatever it is you Dj’s say before a spin,” Eridan says as they listen to Bro’s voice pick up intensity. He’s about to announce Dave.

“On such a wimpy kiss?” Dave asks, his voice a bit hurt. “That’ll get me eighth place, maybe, if not last.” 

“Oh shut up,” Eridan replies with a roll of his eyes, but he does lean in to give Dave a much deeper kiss just as Bro calls out Dave’s name. He ends up having to tear himself away, the camera bulb flashing behind him.

Dave’s lips are still throbbing when he jogs up on stage, his hand waving a little as the crowd yells for him. “As most of you know, Turntech here is my little brother, but don’t be thinking we have anything rigged. The kids got skill, though nothing like his big brother.” The crowd whoops in response as Dave slides his data stick into his computer equipment. He would have prefered a record, but he and Eridan hadn’t had any luck finding any singles on vinyl, and Eridan wasn’t about to sacrifice his beloved record to Dave’s hands. It had left him having to go more digital this time around, which was fine, but he hadn’t given up trying to find a disc of his own for later. With all the new stores Eridan had shown him over the past month, he wasn’t worried about it. The stuff he was looking for would come in eventually. Or they’d hit up more of those estate sale things. 

“But let’s see what the lil’man has for us tonight,” Bro calls as Dave flips a few switches and gets his hands ready. “Give us your beat, Turntech Godhead!” The crowd roars with Bro when he says it, and Dave starts. It’s a driving bass beat to begin, and it doesn’t take long for people to realize what is happening. He can see Bro off to the side, an eyebrow raised, most likely thinking what the others are. ‘What the fuck is he doing with a remix of a remix?’. The new mix of Freaks by Timmy Trumpet blares with the Savage lyrics coming in sporadically, trumpets and bugles sounding now and again before the full lyrics start.  


 _‘The base and the tweeters make the speakers go to war,’_ they blare, and so far he can see that people are enjoying it. It’s a good remix, but it’s about to get better. He smirks, because he knows they are waiting for it, and he’s happy to give it. _‘Ha the mighty trumpet brings the-Boogie Woogie Bugle boy from Company B’_. The female voices mix in with the beat drop as an old brass band mixes in with the music. There is only the barest hints of Timmy for a moment, and the oldie shines through before mixing in. It sends people screaming, though Dave can barely register it as he keeps his beats flowing. A bugle mixes in with the music, high and demanding as a mix of Savage and the Andrew Sisters blend together. It’s big brass with a boom, and Dave feels it thrumming as the room waves with it.

 _‘We get that root, a toot, a toodlie-a-da-toot, all over the world,’_ the song says, and it makes Dave smile, his eye just barely catching the camera that flashes. He keeps it going, lyrics mixing, until he hits the final line. _‘Ah the might trumpet brings the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy out onto the floor’_ followed by a high bugle blare that trails off into applause. 

Dave stands at his tables and smirks, his ears filling with the screams of the crowd, and his eyes full of camera flashes.  
\---  
Eridan is pretty much trying to climb him by the time they get back to Dave’s place. “Hurry up,” he whines against Dave’s throat. He isn’t so much drunk as equal parts having to piss and horny. Dave had made sure he got water after his fourth drink, and while it had saved his mind, it had put one hell of a strain on Eridan’s bladder.

“It would be easier if you would stop groping me,” Dave replies as he tries to get the door open, the key finally finding the lock and the two of them stumbling in. 

“Finally,” Eridan says as he dashes off to the bathroom. The apartment is quiet, Bro having stayed behind to party with the others. Dave had decided to take his own party elsewhere, more at the behest of Eridan than anything else. While he couldn’t drink, the people watching would have been fun, though Eridan’s neck kisses had been all too tempting to put off any longer. 

Dave passes the bathroom and heads to his room, making sure to set Eridan’s camera bag down on the desk next to his computer so that the photographer can send the pictures off in the morning. Dave immediately reaches over and changes his alarm after doing so. It’s going to suck waking up in four hours, well, that is if they fall asleep in the next hour or so. The way Eridan had been talking at the club, Dave is highly doubting that. Sleep wasn’t always a top priority when they had gotten back from the last to competitions.

“Alright, so wwhere is this treasure chest?” Eridan asks as he enters the room, his tipsy stutter welcome to Dave’s ears. He flips off the main light and Dave switches on the bed side one.

“What treasure chest?” Dave asks as he turns from his side table. Long limbs wrap around his shoulders as Eridan pushes right up to him.

“First is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest,” Eridan replies with a grin before leaning in to kiss Dave. He lets him, though he pulls back a moment later.

“Killin’Time wasn’t anywhere near the worst,” Dave points out as his hands hook into the ridiculously tight pockets that cling to Eridan’s backside. 

“But I thought Tav was better,” Eridan pouts.

Dave rolls his eyes. “To each their own,” he replies, though he had to admit it had been close between the two. He hadn’t been aware that most of the beats Tavros had up for trade at the shop were his own. No wonder there hadn’t been any new material around during the competition. 

“Oh shut up, runner up,” Eridan replies before kissing Dave again. Dave is happy to oblige as the two of them tumble backwards, happy to stop talking about the music for a little and instead focus on a different beat. Dave’s fingers pushes gently under Eridan’s throat, just into the pulse point as he lays him onto the bed. He can feel it going quick as a treble line as Eridan’s hips buck up with a needy bass. 

“Guess you’ll be wanting to go first tonight?” Dave asks as Eridan reaches up and removes Dave’s shades. The first couple of times had been weird when Eridan had done it, but after a month Dave isn’t flinching.

“Uh-uh,” Eridan replies, and it surprises Dave. “Where’s my camera bag?” 

“On the desk,” Dave says, and is quickly pushed up and off Eridan in response.

“Get the stuff from the side pocket,” Eridan demands with a pant of breath as he leans forwards to set Dave’s shades, and then his own glasses, on the side table. 

“Yes, oh Maestro,” he says jokingly, to which he gets a soft kick to the ass. Dave chuckles as he unzips the camera bag, listening to Eridan pull off another of his too expensive shirts. What he finds has him aching in his jeans. “Looks like you’re the one with the treasure chest tonight,” Dave says as he turns back with a pack of condoms and lube. He finds a half dressed Eridan struggling to get off his jeans.

“God damn it,” Eridan snarls as Dave finds himself fighting not to laugh out loud. “Come off or I wwill fuckin-” The left leg comes off with a strained grunt, leaving Eridan almost completely bare except for the last lone pant leg that covers him from the knee down. With jeans that tight, there was no way that even the tightest of briefs would have been possible.

“Need help with that?” Dave asks as he sets the condoms and lube down to the side of the bed. It frees his hands up, allowing him to slide one up the bare leg while the other squeezes just below the clothed knee. Eridan’s anger melts away into a blush, and Dave takes it as an invitation to help. He half kneels on the bed as he leans in to kiss just above the denim, kissing down Eridan’s leg with each inch of skin that is revealed as he slowly works the clothing off. It takes a sharp jerk down around Eridan’s ankle, but Dave manages.

“Did you sew those onto your body?” Dave asks as he tosses the jeans off to the side. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eridan replies as he reaches out and jerks Dave to him by his shirt. “I can’t sew. Though if you make me tear this off you’ll be wishing I did.”

“Smooth,” Dave replies, though he does remove his shirt. He would not put it past Eridan to rip his shirt, though he knows he would replace it with at least two more shirts. At least, Eridan had done that with the one he had ruined in the dark room during an impromptu blowjob.

“Do you want to get laid tonight?” Eridan asks, his voice short.

“Only if you’re sober enough,” Dave replies. The swat to his bare shoulder stings only a little. “Okay, sober enough,” he adds as the same swatting hand goes down to undo Dave’s belt. His dick tents in his briefs as Eridan slides down the zipper, fingers quick about removing the cloth from it and shoving everything down to his knees. 

“Get up here.” Eridan’s voice is demanding, but breathy as he scoots back onto the bed.. 

Dave goes, wiggling out of the rest of his clothes and kicking off his shoes as he climbs to be above Eridan. “Up here,” Dave replies, to which hands wrap around his neck and they kiss. He smiles into it, and he feels Eridan’s mouth doing the same. 

“You are not going to let me make this sexy, are you,” Eridan says when he pulls back.

“What, you don’t think this is sexy?” Dave asks in response. “I’ve got a hot older guy in my bed, a pack of condoms, and can still see the stitching of your jeans imprinted on your dick.”

Eridan’s head jerks down to look between them at his own cock.

“Made you look,” Dave adds. 

The response is a swat and a smirk. “Why don’t you get down there and see if there really are marks,” Eridan tells him. 

Dave gives a false little salute before kissing down Eridan’s chest and belly. He’s mapped it out pretty well over the last three weeks, knowing Eridan’s more sensitive on his ribs and just inside the top of his hips. Well, he thinks it is. That’s at least the best place to get a noise, and there is still a slight hickey from the last time Dave had made Eridan groan. Dave decides to renew it.

Eridan pants as Dave goes to work on darkening the skin up again. His tongue makes small circles as he laps, sucks, and nibbles on the flesh. Hands dip into his hair, and it makes him work on a line of them down Eridan’s hip to his thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eridan pants, and Dave comes off his inner thigh with a pop.

“Speaking of which, have you today? Because anal can get really messy if you have-” The flurry of smacks gets him laughing. 

“Oh my god, I’m about ready to say fuck all and use one of those dolls your brother leaves around,” Eridan snips. “And who says I’m on bottom.”

“Because the last time we talked about this you said you wanted to be,” Dave offers. A pillow is raised as Eridan glares at him. “Alright, alright,” Dave says with his hands up. “I’ll be serious.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Eridan huffs. 

“Here,” Dave says as he leans down. “Look, I’m being serious.” His tongue comes out to lick a line up Eridan’s shaft, fingers kneading into the others thigh as he begins to suck at the tip. Eridan’s head hits the bed with a dull, singing thud as the springs beneath ring out. Dave doesn’t have to worry about getting Eridan off quickly, the guy has proven he can last longer than most would suspect, and he makes Dave work hard for it. 

Dave licks and laps, sucks and swirls his tongue as his hand searches for the condom box. They’d been talking about doing this since their second week of what could possibly be called dates. It was more Eridan dragging Dave to more record stores than he had realized were in Texas, and showing him the wonders of big bands and old show tunes. There were also a few close calls with store staff as the two hid between stacks of vinyl with hands in pants or possibly mouths, but they always got food after. That made it a date, right? Their somewhat relationship had been made mores solidified when Eridan had dropped the B word, and Dave had asked if ‘monogamous boy toy’ wouldn’t be more appropriate. They had decided boyfriend worked just fine.

“Okay you can top,” Eridan gasps as Dave takes him down into his throat and then slowly pulls up. 

“But I thought you wanted to play in my treasure chest,” he gently mocks as he climbs up Eridan, pushing the lube into the others hands. “Besides, been there done that, want to see how it is to be a bottom.” 

Eridan freezes as he blinks up at Dave. “Y-you mean that wasn’t a joke?”

Dave feels his first blush creeping in onto his cheeks. “I don’t just spew bullshit all the time you know.” To be honest, Dave had thought Eridan had been acting in ironic disbelief when he had told him he hadn’t let anyone in his ass yet. Apparently not, though the cock twitching against Dave’s thigh makes him feel his insides do a happy little clench. Most people he’s hooked up with had been more wanting him than the other way around, and while toys had been fun, that was the only fun to be had in his ass. 

“Oh, well,” Eridan replies with a slight clearing of his throat as his hands come up above his head, and Dave watches him squeeze an ample amount of lube onto his fingers. “Let the lesson begin.” He sounds a bit nervous, but even with Dave straddling him he doesn’t seem put off. His hand comes up behind Dave, fingers finding his cleft, and he slowly begins to rub his fingers between Dave’s cheeks and over his hole.

“Don’t people usually bend over and let the other look for stuff like this?” Dave asks, that’s what he had done with those guys he had been with.

“If you’re not confident in your skills,” Eridan replies with a smirk before a finger slowly presses against Dave’s hole. He lets out a little sound before pushing his face into Eridan’s shoulder as the finger pushes inside of him. 

“G-guessing you are,” Dave pants into Eridan’s shoulder as he feels the finger start to probe gently into him. His knees slide a bit further on the bed, allowing his dick to hang heavy on Eridan’s belly while Eridan’s dick grazes against Dave’s hip.

“You could say that.” Eridan is definitely smirking, and it makes Dave want to give a little snark back, though he doesn’t as the other continues talking. “Just tell if it’s too much. Feelin’ odd is fine, but if it hurts, you tell me to stop.” His finger is gentle as he says it, making slow circles inside Dave as it moves in millimeter by millimeter.

Dave’s hands grip at the sheets beneath Eridan as he lets out a shaking breath. “Yeah, okay.” The fingers keep going. Eridan asks him now and again how he is doing, and Dave lets him know if he needs to slow down or give him more. When Eridan has two fingers inside and Dave makes an odd grunt, Eridan stops before he can say a thing.

“Too much?” he asks. 

“Nope,” Dave replies. “Just, didn’t know what fingers on the prostate felt like.” He has sweat beading on his forehead from the oddly pleasurable feeling, and also from the embarrassment of the noises that escape him. They are different than when he pushes into someone, and he hadn’t expected them. Thankfully Eridan’s shoulder has been a good place to muffle them.

“Is that all?” Eridan murmurs, mirth in his tone as his fingers rub over the spot again. Dave lets out a staccato gasp. The fingers pull away, circle, and push in again. Dave’s hips push back to meet them on their own accord. 

“Good,” Eridan murmurs, and Dave is surprised at how quickly the third finger adjusts inside him, spreading him further than any toy he has used. In short, quick pulses, Eridan pushes against his insides, prostate, and around the edge of his anus to get Dave panting before finally pulling them out. 

“Um...got a towel?” he asks.

Dave gives a shaky laugh before rolling and grabbing one from the floor at the foot of his bed. Eridan catches it, wipes his hand off, and reaches for a condom. “Do you want to be in control, or me?” Eridan asks. “Er...I mean, do you want to be on top and slide down, o-or have me push in, or-”

“Hey, I’ve done the top thing, remember,” Dave says as he stays laying close to the foot of his bed. “So, why don’t you do the conducting.” 

Eridan only hesitates for a moment before he pulls Dave a bit further up the bed and moves between his legs. “Same rules,” He tells him as he pulls the condom up over his cock and douses it with lube. Dave spreads his legs, and lets out a little hiccup of sound as Eridan spreads more lube over his hole. “If it hurts, I’m not doin’ it right.”

“Well lets hope you do it right, and make first the best this time.” He smirks at Eridan, and feels a little knot in his stomach unwind a bit when Eridan gives a nice little smack to his opened thigh.

“Smart ass,” Eridan says as he lines up.

“You’re about to learn it’s more like tight ass,” Dave responds. 

Erdian gives him a look that has the words ‘shut up’ ringing silently in Dave’s head. He does, and when Eridan seem confident he will stay quiet, he pushes in. There is some discomfort, not painful, but just an odd sensation before Eridan finally slips in. Dave let out a gasp as his nerves send a mix of pressure and pleasure to his brain.

“Doin’ alright?” Eridan asks as he sits still, the head of his dick inside the other.

“Fuck yeah,” Dave replies. “Now would you mind moving from piano to mezzo? This tune’s not the beat I was expecting.”

“What is it with you and the music puns tonight?” Eridan asks as he begins to slowly thrust, speeding up just a little every few seconds. 

“F-felt fitting,” Dave says back as he feels his body twitch and squirm from the newest sensation to graze his pleasure sensors. It is better than a toy, that’s for damn sure. Part of it is because he doesn’t have to worry about the odd forearm cramp that comes with toys, or knowing just where they are going to hit. Each pushes in with a new angle each time, and Dave finds he loves it.

“Come on,” he pants as moves his legs. The underside of his knees rest on Eridan’s hips, and he squeezes. “How about some forte.”

“Who’s conducting again?” Eridan asks, but he does move quicker, hips starting to snap. 

Dave’s fingers clench as he bites his lip. “Okay, peanut gallery is shutting up.” His words are just a little strained, but under control. The way his fingers dig into Eridan’s shoulders, however, give away Dave’s pleasured distress quite well. They dig into Eridan’s sides, pulsing in time and scratching out notes between the lines of his ribs and spine. The thrusts get faster, harder, and Dave is amazed at how easily his body takes them. Or, he would be more amazed, if not for the fizzling going on in his skull as pleasure decides to make him its bitch.

“Oh fuck,” Dave pants as he moves his hand in between the two of them to stroke at his dick.

“Already?” Eridan pants.

“First time, fuck off,” Dave replies with pants as he twists his hand over the head of his cock. 

Eridan grins. “Alright.” Whatever Eridan was holding back drops away, and Dave finds himself letting out peals of nothing but syllabled cries as his hand falters, but Eridan’s dick does not. The light in the room is nothing compared to what’s going on behind his eyes, especially when Eridan’s dick finds his prostate and he is left as a shuddering mess on the bed. The cum splashed on his stomach doesn’t register until he’s groaning from the aftershocks of pleasure that come from Eridan pulling out of him. 

“How was that?” Eridan asks as he stays poised above him.

Dave has to swallow a few times before he can respond. “I guess first isn’t the worst,” he replies. He sees the battle behind Eridan’s eyes to either smack or kiss him. Apparently the endorphins win over rage and he is greeted with a very nice smooch to the forehead.  
\-------

Dave wakes up damp and feeling like he’s being smothered. A few moments of shifting and he realizes quickly that it is only Eridan. The alarm on the side of the bed is going off, barely three hours after they had finally gone to bed, with garbled early morning music and static. He moves to turn it off, and his hand is met with cool air on damp skin. For Eridan, a shower was absolutely needed, and he had dragged Dave in with him to wash of the collection of grit, sex, and lube that was sheened over them both. He had barely had time to dry off before Eridan had pulled him into bed. 

“Hey, come on,” Dave says with a yawn as he smacks the clock. “You’ve got work to do.”

“Bite me,” Eridan grumbles.

Dave gives a shrug in the tangle of limbs. “You said it, not me.” 

The hand in his face is almost instantaneous. “I’m going,” Eridan replies as he disentangles and rolls out of bed. Dave follows, his tongue rolling around his his dry mouth. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” he says as Eridan wakes up Dave’s computer and goes about sliding in the data card. “You want anything?” 

“Whatever you’re haveing,” he replies with a yawn. 

“Applejuice it is then,” he says.

“Water,” Eridan corrects.

“Water it is then, but I’m having apple juice.” Dave receives a grumble in response, but he pays little attention as he gets up to get his beverage. 

Walking is a somewhat odd sensation, but it isn’t bad as he heads out to the kitchen. He’s definitely sore though, mostly from the odd angle of having his legs opened. Dave hadn’t done that before, though he’s guessing he’ll be doing it a bit more often. He is startled to a stop when he finds that someone else is already raiding the fridge, and it isn’t his brother.

“You’ve got to be fucking me,” Dave says as he finds Dualsound, Cronus, standing in his kitchen. He had only met up with Eridan’s brother a few times, the two having very different schedules, and finding him standing in the kitchen has his brain wondering which apartment he’s really in.

“Oh, uh...hey there, Chief,” Cronus says as he lowers the half gallon of milk from his mouth. “We thought you two had sacked in for the night.”

Dave walks up to him and grabs the apple juice from the side door of the open fridge. “Eridan has to submit his pictures,” he replies as he uncaps the jug and goes to take a few gulps. The juice is better than talking, though Dave can’t keep his tongue still for long. “So let me guess,” he says. “You and Bro staying on the down low so no one thought you were banging him for third that first round.”

Cronus lets out a chuckle. “He said you were sharp,” he replies. “Thought you would have figured it out before hand.”

“Hey, Bro’s a master of secrets,” Dave replies. “I mean, you’ve seen the shit we keep in the vegetable drawer.” He glances down to the ‘cold steel’ that they keep in their fridge. Cronus’s eyes glance down as well. 

“The hell does that have to do with secrets?” he asks.

“About as much as you wearing his boxers,” Dave responds. He’s surprised milk doesn’t come out of the others nose. Cronus manages to stop himself and swallows.

“Says the guy wearing my baby brothers,” Cronus shoots back. 

Dave looks down. “Oh, these?” he asks. “Their from last time. He didn’t wear any tonight.”

Cronus gives a groan and leans against the fridge. “Come on man, too much information. Did not need to know that about Eridan.”

“You don’t wear ‘em either,” comes Bro’s muffled and sleepy voice from the futon. 

“Shut up, Bro,” the two say in unison. It makes Dave give Cronus a smirk as the both take another swig from their respective plastic receptacles. 

“So uh…” Cronus says after a few moments. “Thanks for taking care of my little brother, er...you know...” Cronus says awkwardly as he scratches at the back of his head. 

Dave figures he doesn’t mean sleeping with Eridan, but what’s the fun in agreeing with that? “Yeah, I got you,” Dave replies as he puts the juice away and reaches for a glass. “Though you should flip that.” He pushes the glass into the door of the fridge and fills it with water. “Your brother was the one taking care of me tonight.” Seeing Cronus’s face and hearing Bro groan is worth the mild mental scarring of admitting that to them before he turns and goes to walk back into his room. Eridan is just about done at the desk.

Dave sits the cup down and kisses Eridan’s shoulder, gaining a murmured ‘Thank you’ in return. He flops back onto the bed and waits with his eyes closed until he hears the click of the laptop shutting. “Come here,” he says with a yawn and reaches out for his boyfriend. Eridan’s limbs wrap tight around him in moments, encircling him in boney warmth.

“Ran into your brother,” he says as soon as Eridan is settled, his eyes barely opened so he can watch Eridan through his lashes. The other jerks a bit as he blinks almost owl like at Dave in the half light of early morning.

“What? Ho-” He stops. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re brother is the ‘mix master’ he’s been boning, isn’t he.” 

Dave gives him a smirk, and Eridan groans. “Hey, come on,” Dave says as he pulls Eridan close again. He kisses him slow and sweet, feels him relax as limbs re-weave themselves around his body. When he pulls back, Dave runs a hand through Eridan’s still slightly damp hair. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Eridan’s swat is half hazard and half asleep. His hand doesn’t even manage to pull away from Dave’s shoulder, the fingers instead skimming over it as Eridan goes to move his limbs around Dave again. Dave lets Eridan get comfortable before finding his own preferred position. As Dave gets used to his fleshy body pillow, he finds himself listening to their bodies beats. His heart gently lays down an accompanying beat as Eridan breathes the melody in their sleepy serenade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows how to mix music, and can mix any of these songs, I would love you forever. Songs this time around are 'Freaks' by Timmy Trumpet featuring Savage, and 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy from Company B' by the Anderson Sisters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
